


Big Hearts And Hollow Spaces

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Series: (Octopath) Tumblr Prompt Fills & Ficlets (SFW) [3]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: This empty feeling goes in and out, and you learn to live with it until you forget how to live without.(Post-Saintsbridge Alfion Comfort/Fluff)





	Big Hearts And Hollow Spaces

He found Alfyn at the fourth tavern he tried, late enough into the evening that it could technically have been called early morning. He was sitting at the bar, chin resting on one hand, a full mug in front of him and no one around. Therion took a deep breath. He hesitated in the doorway, just for a second. Alfyn wouldn't have been sneaking off on his own if he'd wanted to be bothered. 

But it was so damn unnatural, seeing him sitting alone. He walked in. 

He walked up the bar and took a seat, right next to him, and still Alfyn didn't notice a thing. Therion studied his face. He looked... far away. Far away and miserable. 

"Alfyn," he said, softly. 

It was just a little bit gratifying, the way he startled at the sound of Therion's voice, his back snapping up straight so fast he nearly toppled right off the stool. His eyes widened, and a touch of a smile tugged at his lips. "Well, hey there, stranger," he said in a familiar drawl. "Fancy meeting a guy like you in a place like this." 

The funny thing was, even after all this time, that stupid corny nonsense still made his stomach flutter. He rolled his eyes, and then reached over and picked up Alfyn's half full mug. "Yeah, yeah," he said, helping himself to a drink. Mead, of course. "Get a good eyeful," he said. "Looking is free." 

"Pretty good deal," Alfyn said. "Looks like yours, you could get away with charging." 

"Maybe I'm giving you a deal," Therion said, passing the mug back over. Alfyn picked it up and took a long swig. "On account of the fact that you're not so bad yourself." 

Alfyn let out a low little whistle, fiddling with the handle of the mug, turning it around in little circles on the bar. It made little wooden scraping sounds as it moved. "Now," he said, his voice soft and ponderous, "A guy could get the wrong idea, hearing things like that." 

Therion snatched the drink back, and finished the damn thing off. His face was very warm, which was ridiculous, because this was just -- playing. Teasing. He slept with this idiot literally beside him damn near every night, now. But -- Saintsbridge. Saintsbridge had changed things, knocked everything just slightly off kilter. Miguel Twinspears was rotting in hell where he belonged, and that was all well and good, but the impact he'd had on Alfyn hadn't faded one bit. And Therion had no idea what to do about that. 

So he slammed the now-empty mug down on the bar, turned to Alfyn, and raised his eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me what those ideas are, and I'll let you know if they're right or wrong."

"I could," Alfyn agreed. His faint little smile was back, and his cheeks were a little red, his eyes a little glassy, but he didn't seem _too_ far gone. His words were clear enough, and when he reached over and covered Therion's hand with his, his intentions fair well crystallized, too. "Or I could just show ya, if you don't mind." 

"When do I ever," Therion scoffed at him. Alfyn laughed and brought his free hand up against Therion's cheek, running his thumb over his jaw. Therion leaned in without even thinking about it, and Alfyn exhaled quietly and dipped down and pressed their lips together. Softly... at first. Then Therion let his lips part and Alfyn took full advantage of the implicit offer, kissing him deep and thorough, his fingers sliding up to feather through his hair. 

They broke apart only when the barkeep cleared his throat loudly in front of them, wearing an exasperated look. Alfyn fair leapt backward, nearly falling off the damn stool _again_ , and Therion laughed at him, using his sleeve to wipe not so discreetly at his mouth. Alfyn was a messy kisser, but that was fine. He liked it that way, and by now, everyone knew it. 

"Can I help you gentlemen," the barkeep said, flinging the words like accusations, "Or are you off to find a room for the evening, then?" 

"I, uh," Alfyn fumbled. Therion took his hand, threading their fingers together, and looked the barkeep right in the eye. 

"The latter, probably," he said, cheerfully, while Alfyn sputtered. 

"Off with ye, then," the barkeep muttered, waving them off. "We're closing soon, anyhow. Go on." 

"You heard the man," Therion said, sliding off the barstool. Alfyn looked at him, and then at their hands, clasped together as they were, and then just... smiled, soft and genuine and somehow, someway, he managed to make it a little bit sad, too. Therion's stomach clenched. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to fix any of this. He could barely handle his own bullshit emotional baggage, most days. 

Then Alfyn stood and pulled him close, murmuring softly in his ear. "Thanks for coming all the way out here just to find me," he said. "Really makes a guy feel special." 

"Don't mention it," Therion muttered, not quite able to meet his eyes. He cleared his throat and took a hasty step back. Their hands were still linked together. All right. He could work with that. 

They walked out into the city together. Alfyn was steady enough on his feet, considering just how long he'd presumably been drinking at that damn bar, and Therion was damn glad for that, leading him over the cobbled streets back toward the little place their group had booked for their stay. It was pleasantly cool outside, though some of the smells in this particularly district were questionable, at best. That lessened some the closer they drew to the inn, and disappeared entirely when he shut the door behind him. 

The doorman waved them up, a bored look on his face. Therion tugged Alfyn along, head down, ears hot. Their relationship was old news, by now, but something about being so damn public about it was always... 

Well. It was nice to be with someone who wasn't ashamed to be seen with him. That was all, probably. 

Alfyn stumbled twice on the stairs, and by the time they'd made it up to their room, they were both a little pink in the face, breathing a little too hard. Therion shut the door behind them. Alfyn squeezed his hand. "Seems like I'm just causing you all sorts of trouble, lately," he said. He sounded tired. Resigned? 

"You aren't any trouble," Therion groused at him, pulling his hand back, shaking his fingers free. He flexed them, slowly, while Alfyn clasped his hands behind his back and gave him a mournful little look. 

"I've got you fetching me out of the pub at closing like I'm some kinda vagrant, now." He frowned. "Like I don't want to be here with you. I want you to know, Therion, that ain't true--" 

"I never thought it was," Therion assured him. "Don't worry about it." He actually had thought it, plenty of times. But the thing was, he was getting better at realizing what was real and what was his own stupid, self destructive paranoia, so he'd just... talked himself out of it. As best he could, at least.

"It's just things have been so..." 

"...Complicated," Therion finished with him, their voices overlaying each other. Alfyn laughed and sat on the bed, covering his face. 

"I don't know what to do," he said, softly, muffled into his palms. "I used to go around feeling like I had a real _purpose,_ you know?" 

"You have a purpose." 

"Do I, though?" Alfyn dropped his hands and arrested him with pleading eyes. Therion swallowed, hard. He was was so fucking out of his depth, here. What did he say? What the fuck did he _do?_ He thought he might have done anything to take the lost look out of that gaze, but he had no fucking clue where to even begin. And the worst part was, he'd predicted this. From the moment he'd first met Alfyn Greengrass, the wide-eyed, overly optimistic, too-good-for-this-world apothecary, he'd known deep down the world would disappoint him. 

He just hadn't expected to feel this way about him, when it all finally hit home. 

"Alfyn," he began, slowly. He crept cautiously over and sat next to him on the bed. Slowly, uncertainly, he slipped an arm around him, and that seemed to be the right thing, because Alfyn leaned up against him with a soft little sigh. "Gods," he muttered. "You know I'm no good for this shit."

Alfyn's answering laugh was depreciating on both of their behalves, he thought. "I know it," he said. "Makes it even more amazing that you try, anyway." 

He sighed. 

He'd have to give it his best shot, then, wouldn't he? 

"Your purpose is the same as it always was," he said. "To help people, damn it. You find people in a bind, and you help them out. That's your thing, remember?" 

"I do," Alfyn said. "I'll never forget those words, believe me." 

"But now you're worried that helping the wrong people does more harm than good." 

"Exactly! Gods, Therion, you know me! I'm -- an idiot, sometimes, when it comes to people. I can't tell the good from the bad! I'm too..." he waved a hand, a bitter look pinching his face. "Too damned _trusting._ Naive! You used to say that to me your own self, remember?" 

He winced. Yeah, he had. Plenty of times. Mostly in relation to Alfyn choosing to think the best of _him_. At the time, he hadn't believed he could ever be the person Alfyn saw, when he looked at him. Hell, in a lot of ways, he still didn't -- but what he could do was his damn best, and that was what Alfyn couldn't seem to grasp, here. 

"All a person can do is their best," he said, quietly, trying to explain. "You'll never be able to tell at a glance if someone is good or bad, Alfyn, that's not how it works. You just have to do what you think is right with the information you have at the time." 

"But how do you live with yourself if you get it _wrong?_ " he demanded. "How do you go on knowing that you'll make mistakes, that you'll hurt people, that you'll make a bad choice and maybe s-someone will _die..._ " he bit his words off, breath hitching, and looked sharply away. 

Therion tightened the arm he had around him. He didn't have a good answer. He wasn't sure anyone did, that there even was one. "You have to just..." he winced. "This is going to sound ridiculous, coming from me. But you have to just trust yourself, I guess. That you did the best you could at the time. You know, someone would have died if you'd done nothing, too." 

"He died anyway." Alfyn's lips thinned, his face went stony. "He deserved it, too." 

"I know that, Alfyn, but... look." He took a deep breath. "You didn't have all the information. If he'd died there on the road, you never would have known the truth. You'd probably be sitting here exactly like you are now asking if you'd done the right thing letting him die, when you could have saved him!" 

"I know," Alfyn breathed out, his eyes closing tight. "I know. I _know_ , I've heard that same thing from everyone now, I think. It's true. But I can't help the way it all feels. It's like poison, turning all the things I thought were right and good all sour in my gut." 

Therion couldn't think of anything to say to that. So instead, they sat there quietly, leaning against one another, breathing softly. Slowly, Alfyn's breath evened out, his weight against Therion's shoulder grew heavier, his chin tucked in against his chest. His eyelids drooped. 

"The thing is," Therion said, softly, unsure if Alfyn was even awake to hear it. "We've met a lot of good people, now. Probably the best people I've ever known. And I've always thought, you know, even from the very beginning, back when it fucking _annoyed_ me more than anything else -- that you were the best out of all of them. You might be too trusting, that's true, but, _fuck,_ Alfyn, if you weren't, would we have ever..." he shook his head. "If you'd met Miguel before you met me, I think maybe I'd still be out on my own, somewhere, bitter and angry and cold to the whole damn world. I don't know. I guess, what I'm really trying to say is just that you've made me better, and that's all I know." 

No response. He sighed, loudly, and shifted over, intending to drag Alfyn onto the bed, at least. But halfway through the movement Alfyn's eyes flickered open and found his. Therion froze, half off the bed. Alfyn grabbed his wrist. The one with the stupid shackle around it, which clanked obnoxiously. He winced. 

"There's no one alive or dead that could have stopped me from seeing the best in you," Alfyn said, fiercely, and just like that, Therion's heart started up into a frenzied beat. Heat pooled in his middle and rolled its way lazily up his spine. Alfyn must have seen something about that in his face, because he smiled, then, smiled and pulled him in close and lifted him without hardly thinking about it, right into his lap. Therion balanced his knees on the mattress around him, straddling him, flushing crimson. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, but he also lifted his hands and pushed his fingers into Alfyn's hair, earning a soft little hum of approval. 

"You are so full of shit," Therion said, voice rough, and Alfyn laughed up at him, pressing their foreheads together.

"Cross my heart," he said, tilting his head and pressing their lips briefly together before pulling back again with a little smirk. "Anyone with any sense could see all the good you were tryin' so hard to keep locked up tight." 

"Shut the fuck up," Therion breathed, "and kiss me, damn you." 

Alfyn laughed again, but mercifully, he followed instructions. This kiss was longer, deeper, and it stole his gosdamned breath right out of his lungs, just the way he liked it. When they pulled apart again, they were both red faced and breathing hard. Therion licked his lips. Alfyn slipped his hands right up under the back of Therion's shirt, tracing lines with his fingers up either side of his spine. Therion leaned forward and bent down to kiss the side of his face, down and under his rough stubbled jaw. When he got to the sensitive places around the side of his neck, he pinched the skin there between his teeth, and Alfyn's answering groan only spurred him on. 

"You need a shave," he murmured, and Alfyn let out a low, devious little chuckle, pulling Therion's face against his, dragging his scratchy cheek over his skin. Therion sighed against him, pulling his hair reproachfully. "Probably a bath, too." He worked the string Alfyn used to tie it back free and dragged his fingers through the tangles left behind, rocking his hips forward, slow and sweet. 

"Hard to kiss you if I'm busy shaving and bathing," Alfyn said, tugging Therion's shirt up from the back, a suggestion in the gesture. Therion lifted his arms and let him pull it off him. This accomplished, Alfyn set about pressing wet, noisy kisses over Therion's shoulders and down the line of his collarbone. His fingers dragged little patterns up Therion's sides. Therion brushed Alfyn's hair back, away from his face, and then leaned heavily against him, resting his chin atop his head. Alfyn wrapped his arms around him, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

"I'm worried about you," Therion said, because that was really what was at the heart of all this, and he hadn't had the courage to say it, yet, and he knew he really should. He flushed hot in the aftermath, embarrassed, but Alfyn nodded under his chin, squeezing him tight. 

"I know," he said. "And I'm real sorry about that, Therion..." 

"Don't _apologize._ " 

"I'm not trying to make anyone worry --" 

"We know." 

Alfyn fell silent, his forehead pressed against Therion's shoulder. Therion ran his hands over Alfyn's shoulders, down his back. The worst part about it was how _useless_ he'd felt. Back before, months ago, when he'd first met Alfyn, he'd thought he'd enjoy watching him learn lessons exactly like this. That it would be satisfying to see some well earned cynicism wear at his bright smiles and optimistic epithets. But what he actually felt was more like a futile, weary sort of anger at the world for not living up to his vision. Shit, Alfyn had been a true believer. 

"Everyone must think I'm being such a sensitive little milksop about all this," Alfyn sighed, finally, his voice small. "All of you have been through so much, and here I am, coming all apart for hardly any reason at all." 

Therion frowned down at him, his brow furrowing. "No one thinks that," he said. 

"No one will say it out _loud..._ " 

"No, Alfyn," Therion said, pulling back, turning his face up to look at him. "No one is thinking it. We're worried. We want to do something, sure, we want to help you _fix_ it, but no one is thinking anything like that. All right? I promise you." 

"What if it never gets better?" Alfyn said, even softer than before. "What if I just go on feeling this awful thing in the pit of my gut _forever_ , every time I see a person who needs me, every time I even look at that damned satchel? What if every time I hear that voice in my head, the words of the man who saved me, it's always alongside this big... _empty_ thing sitting where all the good feelings used to be? What am I going to do?" 

Therion shook his head, leaned down, and kissed him quiet. Alfyn sighed against him and pulled him close, and for awhile, that was all they did. Then Therion murmured against his lips -- "Listen," and Alfyn pulled back a fraction, studying him. "Listen. Alfyn... Gods." He exhaled, slowly. "I used to wonder the same thing, after Darius. If I'd ever be able to look at another person and see anything but all the ways they could ruin me, if I let them in." He shook his head. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy, or that it won't take awhile, because -- fuck, how many years did I live like that?" 

"Too many," Alfyn muttered. 

"But then I met you. Them. Everyone. And, I guess..." he hesitated, stomach fluttering. Why was it so hard to say shit like this. "I guess, I'm hoping, since you already have me -- uh, us, all of us, you know --" 

"You won't get sick of my whining and give up on me, then?" Alfyn asked this like it was meant to be funny, a self deprecating joke, but Therion knew _that_ technique. It came right out of his own bag of stupid tricks.

"Never," Therion said, very seriously. 

Alfyn let out a low little whistle. "Never is a pretty long time," he said. 

"Yeah," Therion agreed, and then, on impulse, he leaned over and kissed his forehead. Alfyn laughed up at him, but it wasn't a mocking sort of laugh. It was light, genuine... Alfyn.

"Well," Alfyn said, sounding thoughtful. "That sure is a relief, at least." 

"I bet." 

"I don't know if I could stand it, if I drove all of you away along with everything else." 

"Not gonna happen." 

Alfyn let his breath out in a little rush, nodded, and then scooped Therion up in one smooth motion, flopping them both backward onto the bed. Alfyn wiggled backward into the pillows, his hands firmly on Therion's ass, pulling him along. Therion shot an admonishing look down at him, but Alfyn just waggled his eyebrows suggestively in response, and it was goddamn ridiculous he couldn't help but laugh. Alfyn gave his ass a pointed little squeeze, and then dragged his palms up over his sides, stopping halfway up to lock his fingers behind Therion's back. He pulled him down flush against him, chest to chest, and Therion let himself relax atop him, tucking his nose up into the space between his neck and jaw. 

"You remember the first time I held you like this?" Alfyn murmured, squeezing him tight.

"Mn," Therion murmured, turning his face up, kissing his neck. Alfyn shivered beneath him and laughed, simultaneously. 

"You wiggled right away from me like a rowdy fish on the line," he sighed. "Damn near socked me in the nose doing it, too." 

"See? People change." 

"Guess they do." 

"Feelings, too." 

Alfyn snorted up at him. "You had feelings for me then, too. Don't deny it." 

"Uh huh. All I'm saying is... just give it some time, all right?" 

"If there's one thing I've got plenty of, I guess it's that," Alfyn agreed. "Seeing as how you just said you'd stay with me forever, and all." 

"Right." 

"Your words, not mine!" 

"You know... I know it feels like it might just actually take forever, right now." He snuggled in closer, breathing slow and deep. "But I know you pretty well, I think, and I don't think it will. You want to know what I think?" 

"Sure I do," Alfyn said, his breath a warm tickle against his ear, sending a pleasant little shiver through him. 

"I think you're going to find someone who needs you, like you always do." 

" _You_ need me," Alfyn said. 

"Someone who needs you to not fucking die, smartass," Therion groused. Alfyn, predictably, just laughed. "We'll run into someone, somewhere, and you'll save the day, and you'll just feel so damn good about it --" 

"Now, hold on --" 

"-- You'll forget all about this bullshit with who _deserves_ to live, who it's _safe_ to save --" 

"You think I'm really just that full of myself, huh?" 

"No!" Therion reached up and gave his hair another hard tug. "I think you're good at what you do, and I think you're right to feel good about it. To be proud of it. Whatever. What I'm saying is, there are a lot of people out there, and you're going to do right by the ones you come across, because that's just who you are. And that's why I -- trust you." He hesitated. "Why I like you so damn much." That was a little better. Closer to what he wanted to say. 

Alfyn hummed a soft acknowledgement. "I like you a whole lot, too," he said, quietly. His arms were going loose around him, his breathing deepening, evening out. "I want you to know that," he murmured, his words slurring a bit with imminent sleep. "I like you, Therion. And I trust you, too. Never doubt it for a minute..." 

"I don't," he said. "Not anymore." 

Alfyn nodded, once, twice, and then his fingers stilled against Therion's bare back, and he breathed in deep and even and very much asleep.

Therion laid there until the sky through the window began to lighten into day, still and quiet, tucked in close and wondering what he'd say to him tomorrow. And the next day, and the next... on and on, as long as he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr: [@sealticge](http://sealticge.tumblr.com)


End file.
